Der Glöckner und die Zigeunerin
by GrimmEverafter
Summary: Raised by the Church, Kurt was convinced that he was a monster unfit to be seen. But when he meets a certain Gypsy girl, he begins to question the people he trusted most. A retelling of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Rated for later violence.
1. Learning to Fly

**Author's Rant:** Ever feel like your computer hates you? I know my 10-year-old Frankenstein computer seems to. It threw a hissy fit, jumped into the car, and crashed several times since I last tried writing a complete chapter for a story I'm doing! After having to replace the hard drive _and_ motherboard, it's finally working again.

With that said, Grimm lives! Hopefully this'll mean I can finally get my stories written, and for those who read my DMC3 novelization, I have not abandoned it; my game has decided to suddenly not work anymore, so I have to hunt down a copy of the game _again_ so I can make sure that my details are accurate. Just be patient please!

That being said, here is a story of mine that I have been dying to write for some time now. Recently, thanks to my Sci-fi/Fantasy English class, I've gotten a renewed interest in Marvel comics. Particularly, my fangirl crush Nightcrawler (sue me, but I have a thing for characters like him). As such, the fanfiction section here has been raided by me to quench my thirst for good reading, and I finally decided to write my own story on everyone's favorite 'Fuzzy One'! Be warned though, I got a lotta angst and moments of blood and gore planned. I'm just evil like that.

After reading this one piece by a writer here known as **Tera Hunter**, I was inspired to do an X-men retelling of _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_. Bear with me, though, if anything here sounds too bitter; I have a hard time writing anything that is heavily religious since I prefer not to touch on that subject if I can help it. And to all you Kurtty fans out there, don't kill me please; I love the pairing, but Amanda fits in better for what I have in mind.

_Notes_: Mutants and the humans who live with them = Gypsies

I know extremely little German, and almost nothing about stringing words together in it. If someone knows a reliable online translator (not sure if I trust Google Translate), or is willing to give some of their time to translate English into German, then please let me know via a Review. All translations will be after the story.

Let's end the rant, and get on with the story!

_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own _X-Men: Evolution_ or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

_Prologue_Learning to Fly

The city of Paris was oddly calm and peaceful that morning as the townspeople woke from their beds, as if the usually heavy and oppressive atmosphere of the summer heat had been lifted. Golden sunlight began to creep up and around the spires of the tallest structure visible, a magnificent church whose stained glass windows bore the colors of thousands of jewels. So majestic was the sight that the people below claimed the structure was built by angels in the disguise of men, gracing the humans below with the beauty that could only be found in heaven. A fitting blessing to remind them of the beauty of their deity, for it was not only a place for them to pray, but a sanctuary for those who had nowhere else to go.

High in the tower, long before the sunlight even touched them, the bells began to ring.

Such was the song that everyone in the city felt the joy of the bells; the deep voiced ones humming as the high-voiced ones laughed and sang a joyful tune. It was as if the very soul of the city was resounding, as cheerful as the citizens were as the realizations of this day dawned upon them. Today was the day of a festival where all were equal, where all could celebrate life and rejoice in the simple pleasures of a world otherwise darkened by fear and control. Even the gypsies, the creatures so hated and feared by many people, were given a day when they were normal and treated like the others.

Naïve children in the streets below, caught up in the games and whimsies only children would know, stared in wonder as the tune of the bells became more complicated and cheerful, as if showing their own mounting joy at the arrival of the caravans that would decorate the square before the church into a magical place where the impossible happened. How often they had asked the priests who rang the bells, and the priests never could give them a straight answer. "An angel whose face cannot be seen," they would always reply, smiling gently but showing a bit of regret within their eyes. Only they knew the true nature of the bell ringer, and their hearts would break in pity for him as they gazed up at the tower so merrily ringing out its joy.

They knew that he was likely never to show his face to the humans below.

Within the walls of the stone structure, a complex system of ropes, beams, and columns supported the vast number of bells within Notre Dame, all of them moving as they sang to the soul of the festival being put together below. No mere human could even begin to hope to navigate the confusing path without perfect balance, yet that seemed to be the very perfection held by the bell ringer as he leapt to and fro, pulling on ropes and scampering across the beams with catlike grace. Decidedly inhuman feet gripped rope as he pulled the final few bell ropes, finishing up the cheerful songs and allowing the bells to sleep until the noon tolling. Full of a zest for life, the figure darted up the columns and ropes once more, heading for one of the higher balconies that graced the side of the church facing the courtyard.

Taking a moment in the shadows to adjust his eyes to the bright sunlight, the boy stepped out, his posture slightly bent. In the revealing light of day, the bell ringer was most definitely not an angel as the humans liked to believe; if anything, he looked more like a demon. Dark blue fur covered his lean frame, ruffling a bit in the wind as he placed his three-digit hands on the stone railing, hoisting himself up. A tale, tipped with a soft edged spade, wagged about behind him, showing the same excitement that shone in his golden colored eyes. His feet, bearing only two toes eerily similar to a split hoof, held the stone more solidly as he leaned forward, peering into the mouth of the stone guardian.

A mess of straw was inside, arranged skillfully to resemble a nest in the sheltered hollow of the gargoyle's maw. Peeping gently at him, the tiny pigeon, just barely the age for flying, looked up at him, blinking owlishly at the familiar face. Even with dark indigo hair that reached his shoulder, and fangs in place of canine teeth, the young man didn't threaten him at all as he smiled, reaching a hand in gently. "Guten morgen, mein Kleiner," he said, feeling the bird's weight upon his fingers before moving his hand to his shoulder. The chick peeped once more, tugging gently at the tip of one pointed ear as he chuckled at the tickling feeling. "Alright, mein friend," he said, accent heavily German as the bird settled on his shoulder, "I am happy to see you too." Keeping his balance superbly, he moved from the railing back to the stone floor without knocking his companion from his perch, walking slowly back into the comfortable shadows of the tower.

Furred feet barely making a sound on the wood, the bell ringer made his way up to a small platform in the center of the tower, the beams overhead giving him a sense of security as he reached a vast table that had been set up. Wood shavings and the like were strewn about, as well as pieces of parchment that had charcoal sketches and scribbles on them. The boy smiled as he placed his friend on the wooden table, painted to resemble cobblestones save for a ribbon of blue. The tiny creature peeped at him once more, hopping a bit around as it pecked a bit at the delicately carved buildings.

This was his masterpiece. A model of the city as he saw it from the cathedral, painfully made from years of boredom between his duty of ringing the bells every morning, evening, night, and at special occasions. Over time, he had transformed it to suit what he saw, and the figures were the people he saw most often and felt a strange sort of connection to.

A baker, his belly round and his beard a rich shade of brown, his cart of baked goods at his usual stand.

The fisherman, with his string and bucket full of little silver fish, his white hair tamed under a hat as he sat on the bridge.

The loud but friendly woman and her child that would often walk around, selling flowers and the like.

Many more effigies of the citizens had been carved into wood and put on display here, but the object of his pride was the model of the church. This one had taken him the better part of three months to carve, painstakingly whittling and painting until he had an almost scale, albeit much simpler, replica of his home. Even the stained glass had been reproduced in bright paint, glittering like the pieces of stained glass he had made into a sun catcher above it all.

Sitting in one of the towers was even a little him. Like everything else, this figure was simple, but it showed the same creature that had carved it. This little him wasn't anywhere near as odd looking as the original, and he sighed, running the tip of his tail next to it. He had never moved it since placing it there, the dust nearby obvious, but it was sitting in the same place he loved to sit and watch the people below.

Another round of cheeping greeted his ears, and he chuckled at the little bird as it snapped him away from a potentially depressing train of thought.

"Alright, I hear you," he said, heading towards a smaller table where a plate rested. Upon it was some bread, a tiny jar of honey, and a few pieces of fruit, a meager but delicious breakfast for one who enjoyed simple good food. Picking off a few pieces of the sweetened loaf, he sat in a chair and began to feed the little bird, chatting with it like it was another person.

"Today's zhe day, ja? Vhat a better day zhan zhis to fly!" He rubbed the bird's head and examined its wings. They were fully feathered, only waiting for the little chick to finally spread and test them, but the pigeon began to twitter, almost sadly. Cocking his head to one side, he asked, "Vhy not? It's not so high up. And it vould be fun to fly."

Once they were done eating, he lifted the bird back onto his shoulder, feeling the claws through his simple gray tunic as he made his way back to the balcony. The sunlight shone off of his fur brightly as he once more crouched upon the railing, smiling as he watched the preparations below. "See?" he said to the bird, a broad smile on his face, "Zhe Festival is today. Vhat a day to choose to fly!" His tail whipped around a bit in excitement, the pale yellow orbs following every person as they moved.

Chirping, his companion spread its wings tentatively, but the sheer height seemed dizzying to the tiny bird as it held them tight to it body. "Come now," said the demon-like boy, chuckling as he cupped it in his hands, "Try it. I'll catch you if you fall."

Bolder, the chick finally began to flap its wings hard, and after a few moments, felt itself floating. Looking at the blue-furred boy, he chuckled, showing his hands as the bird realized it was finally flying. Excitedly, it chirped at him and managed to make it to his shoulder, fidgety and happy. Laughing softly, he saw a flock of pigeons taking off for the day, their gray wings flashing in the sunlight.

"Go on," said the boy, once more cupping the bird in his hands, "No vone vants to be cooped up forever." There was excitement in his tone, but there was a glint in his yellow eyes that betrayed the longing he felt, the longing to also fly and be free.

The bird only chirped to its dear friend. Spreading its wings again, it took off erratically after its kin, barely even sparing a backwards glance to the blue-furred creature it left behind.

Watching the bird, the wide smile began to shrink. How he too longed to leave the church, the only home he'd ever know, his sanctuary in a world that was often unkind to creatures like himself. But he wasn't naïve; he knew what the humans would see if he decided to show himself. They'd see a demon, and they'd probably do whatever was in their power to exorcise or kill him. At least inside he was guaranteed a home and food, and the priests didn't care much for his appearance. They only saw him as a person, one dealt a cruel hand that was most likely a test from above. Yet he couldn't help but grimace whenever he saw his own reflection, or reflect back upon the nearly inhuman grace in which he navigated the bell tower and the church.

Crouched on the railing, resembling a gargoyle to those below, he merely watched, unseen by the people below as they went about their lives, oblivious to the silent guardian that dwelled in the dark corridors of the church.

_**Translations:**_

_**Guten morgen, mein Kleiner = Good morning, little one**_

**There we have it! Reviews are much appreciated!**


	2. Lesson in Defiance

**Author's Rant:** Thanks to an anonymous reviewer, I've been inspired to move on with this chapter a lot faster than I had planned. It was by far one of the best reviews anyone has given me on anything I've written. Whoever you are, you are officially an awesome critic ^_^ and this is written from the Disney standpoint. I have yet to get my hands on the book, though I highly anticipate the day my school's library finally stocks the classics!

As for the who's who in this, I tried matching people up to a role by their personalities. So if you have any suggestions for who should be who, I'd appreciate the help.

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own _X-Men: Evolution_ or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

_**Chapter One**_

_**Lesson in Defiance**_

Making his rounds as always, the dark robed figure was one of the very few who did not feel the joy in the city. In fact, many people believed Judge Edward Kelly incapable of any joy, even when he was persecuting gypsies and watching them be tortured in the Palace of Justice, and thus was why all took care to avoid him. It was no secret that he hated Gypsies, likening them to the disgusting creatures that fed on the lowest of scum.

As such, when his eyes fell upon the creature crouched upon the railing he felt only a sense of horrible disgust, but it was accompanied by one of pride. He had molded this Gypsy vermin into a recluse since he was a toddler, forbidding him from leaving the Church or even showing himself to any but the clergy members. The boy was nothing if not loyal to the man he saw as his master, but even his machinations had not squashed the boy's longing to see the world outside.

"Kurt?"

The boy's shoulders tensed as always as he turned to face him, eyes glowing guiltily behind the curtain of his indigo bangs. "Guten morgen, master," he said meekly, attempting a smile as he dropped down from his perch onto the solid stone, posture slightly hunched as the taller man stared him down. The smile vanished, though, when he saw the angry glint in the cold man's eyes.

"What were you staring at?" he asked, his tone that of someone given plenty of power in their position. "Vatching, master," came Kurt's reply, looking back at the people currently darting about the square, "Zhey certainly seem to be enjoying zhemselves." He involuntarily tensed as the man's eyebrow rose; he always forgot that this was a day his master hated more than any other day on the calendar.

Instead of the scolding the boy had expected, the Judge merely shrugged, letting him have it easy on a day when he had enough to deal with. "Come Kurt, it is time for lunch," Kelly said simply, turning around and heading back inside, hands holding onto a basket covered by a white cloth. Like a puppy, the blue-furred mutant followed, his earlier jolliness gone as his gaze remained on the floor. Very rarely did Kurt show any emotion besides humbleness around his master, trying his best to please him to avoid the human's usually vicious scolding.

Making his way past the model table without even a glance, the man sat down at the small, humble table a few feet away from it. Folding his hands on his lap, he raised an eyebrow at the Gypsy. Kurt moved in a near panic, clearing the remains of his meager breakfast from the table and setting the fruit his master brought onto a clean polished plate, setting two goblets nearby. One was made of silver, ornately crafted and polished until it shone like glass. The second was much humbler, simply made of wood and worn smooth over the years. Filling them, wine for his master and water for himself, he sat down on the simple stool across from his master, tail twitching nervously.

Taking a sip from his chalice, Judge Kelly reached for the shelf next to him and withdrew an old, leather-bound book. "Now," he began, voice sounding like a strict schoolteacher, "Shall we begin with your alphabet today?" A bit relieved that his master wasn't going to scold or strike him, Kurt replied, "Yes, master. I'd like zhat very much."

"Good boy. A?"

"Abomination." A twinge of pain filled him as he connected it to one of the many lectures the Judge had given him.

"B?"

"Blasphemy." More pain; Kelly had claimed all Gypsies practiced this.

"C?"

"Contrition." Kurt's thoughts began to wander even as he began answering.

"D?" He began lifting the chalice again, eyes fixed on the book.

"Damnation." His sensitive ears could easily hear the joyous sounds resounding outside.

"E?"

"Eternal Damnation." The boy wondered what it would be like to be out there, just once…

"F?" The Judge brought the chalice to his lips as he sipped at the sweet wine.

"Festival…" He caught himself too late, eyes wide with horror as he watched his master choke and splutter on his wine. Shrinking down under the scathing, angry glare, Kurt pleaded, "Forgiveness, master…my mind was elsevhere…"

Face red, Kelly rose and began to walk towards the now cowering boy. "You were thinking of attending the festival, weren't you?" "NO! I merely…" Kurt began leaving the stool and backing away from the angered human, tail tucked between his legs in nervousness, "It's just zhat you go every year." "I don't enjoy a moment of it! I have no choice, I am a public official!" answered the Judge, his voice somehow remaining calm even as he walked past him and down the stairs leading to the lower part of the tower. The boy followed him like a whipped dog; while the man had taken care of him, he still somehow managed to upset him with little comments that were just a natural part of his curious nature.

"I-I deedn't mean to upset jou, master," he said as they arrived at the walkway connecting the two towers of the church, accent growing thicker the more upset he became, "Bitte vergebt mir." Standing at the railing, Judge Kelly willed his temper to die down. This was to be expected at his age; he knew not Kurt's actual age, but the boy had claimed that he was five when he found him. Fifteen years…had it really been so long since then?

Sighing, he stared down at the square, and then back at the boy, who was kneeling as if praying for forgiveness. "You are forgiven Kurt, I can understand your curiosity, but you don't seem to understand. When your mother abandoned you, anyone else would've burned you at the stake without a qualm," he said, his voice carrying an edge of comforting in its scolding tone, "Can you imagine what they would do to you as an adult?" He could read the pain in the boy's shoulders easily as he stood up; they were quaking with contained tears. It seemed to die down a bit as he stood next to his master, taking a bit of comfort from the hand on his shoulder as he stared wistfully down at the people still setting up the tents.

"The world is a cruel and vile place, Kurt. Full of cutthroats and pickpockets, and the worst kind of vermin you could imagine," Judge Kelly said, looking at the Gypsy once more, "They try to hide it with their bright colors and fanciful music. Monsters, the whole lot of them! In here, you are safe from the pain they bring. The least you could do to repay me is to obey and remain where no one else will harm you." Taking a moment to absorb this, the boy looked down at his hands, the three digits seeming more monstrous than he thought, and then at his toes, which seemed odd coming out of his brown slacks.

"Yes master…" he finally said, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat as the Judge led him back inside. Judge Kelly grinned inwardly; all it took for this boy to obey was to remind him of the one thing he hated to think of most. It was no secret among the priests that this deformed creature resembled a demon, but unlike the boy's master the priests never tried to convince him that was what he was. Cruel and cunning, the Judge was quick to keep his charge in line with that line of reasoning.

Back inside, Kurt strode back to his model table, gazing at the figures. He had watched them all for many years, yet he had never seen cruelty out of the ones he chose to carve. A twinge of doubt filled him as he lifted up the model of the woman with her basket and daughter; never had he heard or seen cruelty from them. They even attended Church, just like the rest.

Why would wicked people attend Church if they were damned to begin with?

Hiding this easily from his master, he looked back up at him with sad eyes. "You resemble a demon, my boy," he continued, striding for the stairs leading back down to the main part of the cathedral, "They would not understand the good soul inside like I do. I am your only friend in this world." Leaving, he then stopped and turned around, pointing up at the tower around him.

"Remember, Kurt, this is your sanctuary. If you leave it, than I cannot protect you."

For several minutes after his master left, Kurt had returned to his post on the railing, gazing down at the humans with conflicted emotions. Both what he knew (and hoped) about the people below and what his master had told him rolled about his mind. The boy trusted his master; he had raised him since he was but a toddler, lost and afraid when he made his way to Notre Dame. His memories of then were vague, but he knew that the Judge had been one of the few to care for him at that age.

Hearing more footsteps, the boy froze, but the heavy scent of incense and parchment reached his nostrils. "Guten tag, Vater," he said, instinctively hopping down to kneel at the archdeacon's feet. The old man smiled gently at him, though it was clearer that he was not as disgusted as the Judge had been. Dressed in a white robe, he seemed to be as spiritually pure as anyone could hope to be, but inside, he felt like a sinner as he gazed down at the boy. So many secrets he was forced to shield him from, yet his heart told him that Kurt deserved the truth.

As he mulled these thoughts over, he blinked when he noticed that he was muttering a prayer of forgiveness in German, as if he was confessing to something. In the fifteen years he had know Kurt, it still surprised him to see how pious he became after the Judge scolded him for merely thinking about the outside world. "None of that, my son," he said in a soft but stern tone, making the blue-furred boy look up, "You have done nothing wrong. I know you long for the world outside, if even to glance at it and taste the free air outside the Church."

"But I upset mein master…" he began, golden eyes confused as the priest shook his head. "I fear he upset you, Kurt. You have never seen the outside world except from this church. If you had no desire to see what it was like, I'd be worried for you." That seemed to calm the Gypsy; he was more than willing to listen to the kind-hearted priest than the cruel Judge. It had been the priest who had squashed Kurt's belief that he was a demon when he learned of the monsters, and it had been the priest who had taught him about the good things in the world.

Looking back down at the festival, his ears seemed to lower a bit as his bad mood came back. Gazing down as well, the priest thought for a while, then smiled as he began walking away. "I know that it is a sin to disobey your master," he said, making Kurt look up at him in confusion, "But if I really wanted to go, I'd believe it better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission, so long as I was cautious about where I was and where I went." With that, he descended the stairs.

Standing there, Kurt had to blink several times as everything slowly began clicking into place in his mind. Was the archdeacon, who preached loyalty and obedience to God, _actually_ suggesting he disobey his master? Shocked, he looked back down at the crowd, then at the doorway.

A broad grin began to split his face as he ran back to the bell tower.

Moments later, he emerged, dressed in a clean tunic and pants and a black hooded robe that hid his demonic appearance. With one last final look back at his tower, he began descending the pillars and statues with as much ease as he traversed the beams.

Kurt was finally going to attend the Festival of Fools.

_**Notes:**_

_**Bitte vergebt mir = **_**Please forgive me  
**

**Second chapter up! Please please please review!**


	3. Behind the Mask

**Author's Rant:** Shout out to _**Umeplumblossom**_ for being the second awesome reviewer of this story! I think that I'm slowly getting the hang of my writing style the more I write this. We've finally reached the chapter for introducing a whole host of other characters, plus the world they live in. Hopefully being inspired to keep doing this is a sign I'll actually complete this tale xD

I apologize for the late update as well. School was catching up to me in a very bad way, so I was being bogged down with projects. I only managed to finish this chapter as early as I did because I am taking a break form doing some projects. Hopefully my muse was hyper enough to give you all a pretty nice chapter. It's and I've taken the liberty of exposing him in a manner different than what happened in the _Hunchback of Notre Dame_. My way is more interesting, in my opinion.

Kudos to anyone who can guess who is who in this! Especially the one(s) playing Clopin!

_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own _X-Men: Evolution_ or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Behind the Mask**_

Any other time of the year, the square was a quiet place, full of people who were either heading for a place on the other side of town, or for the cathedral dominating one side of it, a beacon of sanctuary to many a lost soul. Yet, once a year, it lost its humble purpose and became as bright and as lively as the gypsies who came in with their brightly colored banners and tents, determined that the town would at least have one day to live their life to its fullest, outside the iron eyes of the ever watchful Judge Kelly.

It was thus that when the singular cloaked and robed figure descended into the blissful chaos that he found himself in childish awe of the spectacle he had only seen from the high towers of Notre Dame. Thousands of smells reached his nose as the various vendors offered treats to the people, both exotic and familiar from every angle. Music of a kind he had barely heard from his confines above now washed over him in a flood of joy, tempting him to dance with the others.

But as much as he wanted to join in the festivities directly, Kurt kept himself covered and hidden, peering around with golden eyes that glowed excitedly in the shadows of his hood. They were the only bit of him visible, hands and feet wrapped and his face obscured, but no one seemed to notice, thinking him merely another one of the poorer folk who had come to enjoy the spectacles of the Feast of Fools.

Rounding one of the brightly colored tents, staying close to the church should something happen, the gypsy noticed that everyone was crowding over to one part of the square, looking very excited as the band began striking up a different tune. Unable to really see from where he was, he deftly climbed up one of the sturdy poles holding up the banners, hands and feet gripping tightly as he reached the top, hearing the crowd's song.

"_Come one! Come all!"_

_Leave your loops and milking stools!_

_Coop the hens and pen the mules!"_

Peering carefully, Kurt noticed a parade of dark robed figures approaching, holding staffs as they imitated the somber priests. But the crowd seemed to known something about them he didn't, and as he moved to getter vantage point, he failed to notice one of the ropes had failed to be tied properly, probably by some careless vendor too excited about the fun.

"_Come one! Come all!_

_Close the churches and the schools!"_

The rope finally twisted away, and poor Kurt let out a yelp of surprise as he was carried with the banners down to street level, unintentionally ending up in the middle of the empty square before the figures. Still hidden, he was aware of being stared at as he looked up at the figures, the crowd continuing their tune.

_"It's the day for breaking rules!_

_Come and join the feast of ..."_

"FOOLS!" called out a young woman, who had suddenly appeared from under the robe of the head figure, dressed in the purple and yellow costume of a jester. Her black hair was tied back into a ponytail by purple, bell covered ribbons, and she laughed as she threw her arms in the air, colorful banners falling from the staffs as brightly colored balls of energy flew into the air, popping and showering similar sparks every where. To say that Kurt was surprised was like saying the crowd was more than ecstatic when she appeared; both true as everyone cheered.

The girl laughed more, bells jingling as she took Kurt by the arm and began dancing with the thoroughly surprised boy, singing in a bright, clear voice,

"Once a year we throw a party here in town!

Once a year we turn all Paris upside down!

Ev'ry man's a king and ev'ry king's a clown!

Once again it's Topsy Turvy Day!"

Spying Kurt trying to sneak away once she had let him go, the girl grinned, never missing a beat as she kept trying to get him more involved in the festivities, finally cornering him in the puppet booth and making a mock representation of a priest dance on his head.

"It's the day the devil in us gets released!

It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest!

Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!"

Managing to get away from her, Kurt blinked when he saw a few of the other gypsies, performing in the streets for the crowd. One boy made multiples of himself, doing tricks with a wolf while a girl was juggling flames with another boy, all dressed in brightly colored costumes. Almost all of them wore some sort of mask, but the crowd seemed to know them as well as they knew the head jester, everyone gypsy assembled singing along with her.

"Topsy turvy!"

"Ev'rything is upsy daysy!" Trying to keep far from the overly curious girl, Kurt found himself running into one of the smaller tents, barely big enough to hold a single person comfortably.

"Topsy turvy!"

Suddenly, he found himself being sandwiched between a whole bunch of girls, all of them doing the can-can out from the small tent to one several feet away, followed by the jester who had donned a similar skirt as theirs in bright purple.

"Ev'ryone is acting crazy!

Dross is gold and weeds are a bouquet!

That's the way on Topsy Turvy Day!"

Now more than desperate to avoid being exposed by her, Kurt managed to wrestle himself away, falling backwards through the tent and into another one. Losing his balance, seeing as his usually handy tail was wrapped around his waist to prevent an accident, he cried out in surprise as he fell, instinctively grabbing a curtain. It ripped off its rings, falling over him and blocking his vision of a very angry, very feminine voice, "HEY!"

Face hot from embarrassment, he began trying to work his way out of the tangle he was in, stammering, "I-I'm sorry! I d-deedn't mean…" Now he was in trouble. For once, he questioned the good Father's advice, but was surprised at a pair of gentle hands helping him sit up as the voice said, "It's alright. You're not hurt are you?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, keeping his face down as the curtain was finally pulled away. Horror filled him as he adjusted his hood to better hide him. The bandana he had been using to hide his face was gone, lost somewhere in the fall. The same hands, the skin a light olive color as they gently gripped his shoulders, definitely belonged to those of a girl. One of them reached up and turned his head, insisting, "Let me see." Despite his protests, she lowered his hood and brought is face to meet hers. For several seconds, neither one moved, Kurt too entranced by the gentle face that greeted him. This gypsy didn't seem like the others, totally normal and kind, brown locks slightly curled in a bright red bandana. A bit of a blush lit up his face when he noticed she was only clad in a blue robe, the material silky as it brushed across his fur.

What surprised him most was that she didn't seem to notice that his face was covered in blue fur, or that he had fangs and pointed ears. In fact, she smiled at him, replying, "See? No harm done." Kurt was too stunned to really have a reaction to this, his eyes wide with confusion as she helped him up. Chuckling, she patted him on the shoulder, replying with as much good nature, "Just try to be a little more careful." "Danke schön," he said, smiling a little as he moved to bring his hood back up. Holding the flap of the tent open for him, she flashed him another kind and joyful smile.

"By the way," she said, winking at him a bit as she handed him the previously missing bandana, "Great mask." With that, she returned inside the tent, leaving behind a very bashful but otherwise cheerful Kurt.

"Topsy Turvy!"

The blue mutant winced as he replaced the bandana, noticing that he had been led back into the middle of the chaotic festivities. The jester from before was now still dancing around, this time juggling her own little balls of brightly colored energy with a similar jester who was throwing tiny fireballs into the air that popped, her hair in blonde pigtails and costume bright pink and red. Both were now beginning to sing simultaneously, their voices in perfect harmony. "Beat the drums and blow the trumpets!"

Managing to avoid the attention of the two, Kurt wandered in the boisterous crowd, fitting in with most of the present people. Gypsies of all shapes and sizes were performing and catering to the humans, who seemed not to care that these were the people they would persecute and even kill at any other time of the year. It was a strange but wonderful sight, one that he was finally getting to enjoy firsthand instead of from afar. It was a pleasant change that made him feel less like a freak and more like he belonged to this joyous world.

How could his master say that the world was a dark and horrid place when he was witnessing this firsthand?

"Topsy Turvy!"

Making his way towards a wooden stage that any other time of year would be used for public executions or announcements. Now, it had a brightly colored ribbon around its border, matching the booth where the public officials sat, looking about as excited as the rest of the peasants save one. Kurt was horrified when he saw the face of Judge Kelly, immediately moving so that a streamer pole was hiding him from view. This was the last place where he expected to see his maser, and it was definitely not how he intended to be discovered.

Dancing around on the stage, the two jesters smiled at the crowd, dancing around with brightly colored streamers as a third one, dressed in a blue and orange costume with bright looking eyes and blonde-brown hair joined them in their dance and song.

"Join the bums and thieves and strumpets

Streaming in from Chartres to Calais"

:  
Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy

On the sixth of "Januervy"

All because it's Topy Turvy Day!"

Now done in their dance, the three bowed comically as the crowd cheered wildly, throwing ribbons and confetti around in an expression of joy. Gaily smiling, the blonde one began to speak in a sing-song voice, the others miming all that she said.

"Come one, come all!

Hurry, hurry, here's your chance!

See the myst'ry and romance!" At this, the pink jester was sitting on the edge of Judge Kelly's booth, winking at him as she said the line, hands on his shoulders. Hopping away from the Judge, she failed to see his disgusted look, or the way he dusted himself off from her touch. In a way, Kurt couldn't help but be amused by how he failed to notice that this was an innocent festival.

"Come one, come all!

See the finest girl in France

Make an entrance to entrance!" All three girls stood in the middle of the stage now, and the two began to make their little balls of energy in their hands again, the third, holding onto them as they all sang out the last lines.

"Dance la Amanda,

Dance!"

At that, the balls were thrown onto the ground, creating small explosions whose smoked blocked the girls from view. Kurt could barely see them slipping down into the wood as the girl in orange helped another girl up, one dressed in a hood to hide herself as the smoke cleared. When she boldly dropped the garment, his jaw nearly hit the ground, eyes wide and amazed.

It was the girl from before, but while he had been gone, it seemed as if an angel had come down and blessed her with more beauty than she already possessed. The red bandana was still there, but instead of the blue robe, she now wore a red gypsy dress, the color bright but nonetheless charming. Tiny, yellow colored ribbons trimmed the billowing skirt and almost nonexistent sleeves of the garment, making it appear fierier as she began to dance nimbly, feet bare save for gold anklets similar to the bangles on her wrists. Her tambourine sang in time to the tune played by the band, all of it whispering of an exotic land and mysterious things that he had never even dreamed about.

Yet, despite the alluring way she was dressed, or the song she danced to, the girl never seemed to flaunt to the crowd like some would expect. Instead, she merely kept dancing as the music speed picked up, the crowd clapping their hands while the music evolved from an exotic, slow tune to a more familiar fast paced song. Kurt found himself clapping alongside everyone, smiling broadly behind his hood and bandana, but he was the most surprised when she stopped dancing and began heading to the crowd, reaching her hand down towards him. Her gentle smile told him that nothing bad was going to happen, and he found himself trusting her and he reached up, accepting the helping hand onto the stage. Once there, it seemed the crowd was jealous she had chosen the strange figure instead of an attractive boy to dance with, but she ignored them as she began to dance simply with him. The boy's nimbleness allowed him to catch on fairly quickly, doing a folk dance with the girl- Amanda, he now realized from the song- that seemed to be more pleasing now that they kept picking up the pace. In the crowd, he noticed now and then, people had partnered off to dance as well, but it was also the general consensus that as the song kept picking up in pace, people tended to fall down, laughing merrily.

As the song kept going faster and faster, Kurt found himself and Amanda doing the same spinning routine in the dance that usually had most other dancers on the ground, laughing merrily. It seemed to be a shock to the crowd and her, but the girl only smiled as she kept up with him, soon being the only pair capable of the dance as it reached its fastest point. Finally, the music stopped, and the boy almost jumped out of his skin at the roar of approval from the crowd. He looked out at them, in a complete stupor; they were cheering _him_, a complete stranger to their people, their ways, and even their way of life. A smile formed more broadly on his face as he bowed to Amanda, who curtsied back at him, her own expression reflecting the crowd's joy. Straightening back up, he was immediately flanked by the three jesters from before, all three of them clapping and cheering as madly as the others.

"Bravo! Bravo!" called the pink and red one, the more playful and flamboyant of the three as he looked around nervously at them. For a moment, he could swear that he saw an almost infatuated look on his master's gaze when his eyes fell upon him, but the gaze was at the red clad Amanda instead of the gypsies around him. Kurt frowned, but blinked when he heard the head jester say, "It's been quite a long time since We've seen anyone finish that dance with our own Amanda! This fine fellow has earned the title of the King of Fools very easily!" More applause met his ears, and he looked at the two flanking him with nervousness, particularly at their leader who grinned at him.

"How about our King of Fools shows the court his face?"

And as before, the hood was down and the bandana well before he could retaliate.

* * *

_**Translations:**_

_**Danke schon **_** Thank you prettily/ Thank you very much**

**There we have it! Reviews are much appreciated!**


	4. Sanctuary

**Author's Rant:** Shout out to _blue-fuzzy_, _Kira Odayashi_, and _Orihime-San_ for their enthusiastic reviews ^_^ I was starting to consider stopping this because real life was getting in my way (moving, graduating, finding out about Kurt dying in the comics T^T, etc.) but hearing that my writing style is actually fun to read has given me my muse back!

This chapter took quite a while to think up as well. I didn't want to exactly torture Kurt (he gets so abused as it is), but I needed a way to get Amanda to piss off Kelly without Kurt being bound up. And just to answer the question ahead of time, no Kurt does not know he can teleport yet. That ability will be saved for a most strategic moment! D

_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own _X-Men: Evolution_ or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

* * *

**_Chapter Three _**

**Sanctuary**

There were a lot of things that Kurt had always regretted.

That one time he took a sip of his master's wine had been more trouble than he had expected, resulting in both a stomachache for him and a headache from the long, rather angry rant he had to listen to.

When he asked about his mother and father, receiving little more than damnation as Judge Kelly declared them to be the worst kind of Gypsies imaginable.

But nothing ever compared to the situation he found himself in now.

The moment that his face had been revealed, the entire square went silent. No one, not even the Gypsies, had expected him to be a blue, fur-covered young man with indigo hair, glowing yellow eyes, and fangs that were nothing less than frightening when he attempted a friendly smile. He could see his master out of the corner of his eye, face purple with anger but looking all the world like he was seeing the Devil himself, and even the jesters that had been pursuing him the entire time looked rather surprised. A lead weight settled in his gut, cold with dread as he saw the fear and terror in their eyes. This was _not _going to end well at all.

"DEMON!"

All it took was that one, terrified shout, and Kurt found himself running for his life.

Many of the humans moved out of his way, shoving and screaming as the pandemonium started to escalate, and gave the poor boy ample room to run from the brave few who had started grabbing the nearest items to use as weapons. Ducking and weaving through the tangle of people, he was doing the best he could to get back to the Church, the one place where he would at least be safe from being murdered by a panicking crowd. Images of being burned at the stake, hanged at the gallows, or even beheaded in front of a zealous crowd only made Kurt panic even more as he narrowly avoided a thrown rock.

Why?

Why had he disobeyed his master?

His thoughts were rudely interrupted when a second rock caught him on the back, nearly making him roll into the steed of a soldier. They too were beginning to take chase, spears and arrows at the ready as he barely managed to leap out of harms way. Only the banner poles and tents provided him with any means of escape, and the years of living in Notre Dame, with its many statues, towers, and columns paid off. With grace that would shame even the best acrobats and contortionists, he stayed out of reach whenever the opportunity would lend itself in his favor. The boy was mere meters from safety as he left the maze of tents, the walls familiar and comforting to his frightened eyes. With a renewed burst of energy, he rushed for the doors…

…only to be stopped dead by an arrow in the back.

Crying out in pain, the boy fell and slid to a stop, the offending projectile lodged in his shoulder blade pretty deeply. Behind him the same archer was reloading his boy, taking aim as Kurt turned around in fear, tears in the corner of his eyes. He could see the ignorant hate in his eyes, a hate that had been born from merely seeing the boy's appearance. Clenching his eyes shut, he curled into a ball, too terrified to move.

Something jingled as a shadow fell over him, and the blue-furred boy opened one, then both eyes, disbelief evident in them as he stared at the back of Amanda. The girl looked slightly ragged, like she too had been running after him, but instead of trying to kill him, she was standing in front of him, arms spread protectively as the rest of the mob came running forward. She looked back at him, mercy in her eyes, before glaring daggers at the humans before her.

"Move, Gypsy!" snarled the man, his bow aimed right at her, "Or I'll skewer you!"

"Make me," she said, voice darker than before, "This boy has done nothing to deserve getting killed."

"He's a demon! He must be killed!"

Those words stung Kurt worse than the arrow digging into his shoulder blade. Did he really look so much like the hellish beasts that killing him was acceptable? More tears began to flow down his cheeks, fearing for a moment his savior would turn into his slayer, but the girl didn't budge, instead looking all the more enraged.

"He's no more a demon than you are! Not once did he make any attempt to attack anyone!" she spat, hands now resting on her hips, "Or does simply _looking_ like something make you the same as it?" Letting the sentence hang in the air, she turned to the boy, who was now up in a crouch and looking more like a whipped dog than a devil. Kneeling next to him, she gingerly wrapped her hand around the arrow, saying gently, "It's going to hurt, but please bear with me, okay?" Nodding, he closed his eyes and stifled a pained yelp as the arrow slid out from his flesh, and something soft and silky was bound around it. Kurt looked down, frowning; it was Amanda's head-scarf, now stained an even deeper burgundy by his blood. The girl smiled kindly at him, and Kurt felt nothing but gratitude towards her as he whispered, "Zhank you," before rushing off.

As he entered the open doors of Notre Dame, bathed once more in its comfortable shadows, Kurt found tears rolling down his face when he caught a glimpse of the frightened faces outside.

* * *

Once the boy had retreated to the sanctuary of the stone church, Amanda was very much aware of the angry faces of the soldiers and heavily religious glaring at her. But there was also the supporting gazes of her fellow Gypsies, both those with gifts that ordinary people considered a curse and the ones who lived with them. None of them saw the boy as a demon, clearly recognizing him as one of their own, and her act of mercy had further solidified the unbreakable truth of her feelings towards them. Even some of the humans had seen her act of kindness as a sign that the boy was not a devil (other than the fact he had actually _entered_ Notre Dame without burning or being smote by an angel), and glared coldly at the authoritive figure of Judge Kelly.

"How dare you prevent a figure of the law from doing his duty," he said to the girl, glaring coldly down at her red clad form as he rode up on his own jet-black steed. More of the men were gathering, armor clattering noisily as they prepared to arrest the young woman at his orders. Normally, his mere presence was enough to intimidate most people, but he noted with nothing less than complete hatred that this girl did not waver under his scathing glare, in fact shooting him one back that was ten times more angered, just like her tone.

"I wasn't about to let an innocent boy get killed, especially not by a bunch of _monsters_ like yourself!"

Judge Kelly wasn't one used to defiance. In his career, no one, except the Gypsies and possibly the Archbishop himself, had ever defied his will, his power often rooting seeds of fear deep enough in to prevent rebellion from ever sprouting. But this girl was acting as if she had more power than he would ever possess. And while he considered himself to be a righteous man, his two greatest sins, Wrath and Pride, reared their ugly heads as he pointed to the girl.

"Arrest her."

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter seems a bit short! I promise the next one will be much longer!**


	5. Kindred

**Author's Rant:** Shout out to everyone for their enthusiastic reviews ^_^

First off; 8U I apologize that this took so long to update, for real life has been a major pain lately. Between my computer having to get repaired over and over by incompetent repair people who only made matters worse, viruses sneaking into it, and then loads of other real life obstacles, I haven't had much time or inspiration to finish this chapter for the longest time. But now, I am back with a vengeance *insert thunderclap and maniacal laughter*, and I will try my damned hardest to complete this!

In case I screw up with anything, I am admitting right now that I am mostly working off of memory of the movie as I write this. I've watched it a lot during the year, so I can _almost_ perfectly remember the gist of the plot and key events. However, this is not a perfect retelling of the movie version. This is an **adaptation**, meaning I reserve the artistic license to modify points here and there in order to make things work out. As such, during my frustrations to find a character to take the role of Phoebus, I ended having to go with what would work later on, while not sacrificing the integrity of any mutants that I happen to like xD

Also, some forewarning about any German in this. I am using Google Translate, so if anything is inaccurate, please let me know!

_**Disclaimer:**_I do not own _X-Men: Evolution_ or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

* * *

**_Chapter Four_**

**Kindred**

"_Vergib mir Vater, denn ich habe gesündigt …"_

Hands clasped together in prayer, Kurt's voice was shaky as he recited the familiar words, trying to draw comfort from them. He was trembling all over in fear and pain, and if he took time to really pick apart his emotions, a bit of indignant anger could be found deeply buried.

Why?

Why did he disobey? His master had warned him that they would try to kill him, and had it not been for the Gypsy girl, he would be dead by now. The wound in his shoulder still throbbed, even after he had cleaned it, and it only served to deepen his misery. Not even the prayer of forgiveness could distract him from it.

Tears left streaks in his midnight colored fur, and he finally opened his eyes, the yellow orbs slightly red from crying. Kurt needed to find the archdeacon, seeing as he was the only other person who could tend to him, and also because they both needed guidance now. The good man had not intended to see the bellringer harmed, and thus the boy held no quarrel with him. But with his master most likely ready to whip him when he came back to see him, he would need all the support he could get now before he was shut inside the tower again.

Standing up, he looked once at the balcony, where hours before he had been so eager to dream of the outside world. Now, it made him cringe in terror, the afternoon light highlighting his features oddly before he tentatively descended the comfortable darkness of the stairwell.

Since its completion, Notre Dame had stood as a sanctuary to those in need. Even on festival days, it was not unusual to find the pious or desperate here, sitting or kneeling among the pews with hands clasped in prayer. To these people, they felt their faith would solve their many earthly problems, and thus, they devoted hours, sometimes even days to their prayers, rivaling the nuns and monks with their devotions.

But not all who entered the rows of pews sought the sanctity that such meditation could give.

Dressed head to toe in a dark shawl and cloak, the figure would seem like another beggar, creeping into the cathedral for a chance to find some peace while the commotion outside continued on. Many of the sounds were frightening; calls of the soldiers mixed with the frightened voices of the Gypsies, who packed their belongings early to retreat back to their homes for the night. No one had expected the festival to take such a turn, and it certainly had thrown many for a loop.

Lowering her hood, Amanda could only begin to contemplate these things as well, looking around the vast interior and closing the doors behind her. The disguise had worked enough, or so she hoped, to escape the clutches of the Judge. Now that she was inside the Church, the Gypsy girl felt out of place, the white blouse and purple skirt standing out starkly compared to the muted clothing of the others occupying the chamber. She had come in here with the intention of making sure that the boy was alright, but it hadn't occurred to her whether or not she would find him in the enormous, castle-like structure.

Neither did she expect to feel a set of hands settle on her shoulders. Shoving them off, she turned around with the intent of slapping the offender-

-only to have her hand stop inches from the face of a familiar looking man.

"Stefan?" Amanda hissed, keeping her tone low as she looked up at her brother. Unlike his sister, his short hair was a deep blonde color that matched the gilded armor he wore, and his own blue eyes were stunned when he saw the face of someone he had not seen in years. "I thought you were away fighting the Crusades!" she continued, glad to see him but knowing that this was probably not the best of times for them to see each other. He shook his head, speaking in an equally low tone, "I was called back to serve under Judge Edward Kelly in the Palace of Justice. I didn't think you and Mother would stop here, of all places."

Before the conversation could continue, he turned when the door was opened, showing the evil, gaunt face of the bloodthirsty man.

"Well Captain?" he said, keeping his voice down in reverence of the holy place instead of for the peace of the others, "Arrest that Gyspy, now!"

"I cannot," Stefan said, the lie undetected in his voice, "She has called for Sanctuary. I cannot touch her." Once again, Amanda thanked the powers that be it was her brother and not another soldier that had found her.

Contempt dripped from Kelly's voice as he growled, "Then drag her out and arrest-"

"You will do no such thing in THIS church," answered a deep voice, and the archdeacon emerged from the shadows where he had been lighting the candles nearby, "Or have you yet to learn from the last time you disobeyed the sanctity of this place?" He seemed smugly amused as the Judge's face went purple with rage, ordering the soldiers to leave before he followed them out. "Very well then," he said, voice deathly calm as an evil grin replaced the look of rage, "Then we will see how long you can last in this sanctuary. Gypsies, after all, don't do well in stone walls."

Leaning near her, his voice oddly husky, he added, "And then I will most enjoy seeing a rope around that beautiful neck, you witch."

Amanda nearly spat in his face as he left, feeling like something disgusting had crawled over her as the church slowly emptied. Her brother, however, gave her a glance that indicated he would try to get in touch with her once it was safe. At least she knew he would be able to keep a secret as important as being siblings. But it did not stop her from casting him a hurt expression when she heard the Judge demand, "Post a guard at every door! If she sets one foot outside of Notre Dame, arrest her!"

Growling in frustration, the young woman found herself slumping to sit against the wall, burying her face in her arms as she tried to fight the indignant feeling inside of her. What a day indeed, she realized. Her brother, whom she had not seen in years, was now under the employment of the same man that wanted her dead, and not she was stuck inside of the last place she wanted to be, on threat of facing the man's twisted 'justice' the moment she tried to escape. It was a hopeless situation, but one she was determined not to let get the better of her.

Only the archdeacon showed her any pity, standing nearby as he lit the candles to illuminate the church with the sun setting outside. "I am sorry for this misfortune, my child," he said, already saddened by the suffering that he had witnessed when the bellringer had ran inside as if Hell was nipping at his ankles. "I still can't believe what they did to that boy!" she finally said, tone raised just enough to draw angered glances from the praying men and women nearby, "You saw it! They were about to kill him just because of the way he looked!" A surprised look crossed his features at her outburst, but it was not without gratitude. Most of the few people who knew of the Gypsy's existence had at first proclaimed him a demon, or at least a sinner that had been condemned to his odd form. But given how she was raised, it went without staying that she would be more understanding of the boy's plight, and thus more compassionate.

For a few moments, the girl said nothing, fuming in her obvious anger before her shoulders slumped in defeat. "What do they have against people who are different?" she finally asked, looking over at him with eyes that had seen much suffering blown to her people, who for the most part could not help being what they were. It was the same everywhere they went, she knew; while some places were more tolerant than others, there were always those who looked upon the Gypsies as vermin, took every chance they could to scrub them from the face of the earth, and all without a single thought that they had not asked to be born that way. Just the thought of such unfair treatment to the freedom loving people made her blood boil.

"I cannot answer all your questions, child," the old man said, patting her shoulder like a father would to his child, "But-"

"You! Bellringer!" shouted another monk, glaring at the stairs that led into the high tower above, "Haven't you caused enough trouble today?" All glares now centered on the boy who had appeared on them, eyes wide with shock. Amanda turned quickly, and began to run after him as he bolted, his feet barely making a sound on the stairs.

"Wait!"

* * *

**Hope that this makes up for the absence! Peace out!**

**~Grimmeh**


End file.
